


What We Talk About (When We Actually Talk About It)

by KiwiBerry



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies), Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015)
Genre: M/M, and Ethan is just like I love you stop it, and then being very in love and talking about it, basically a reflecting on our relationship kinda story, basically a through the years fic, just lots of dorks being in love and not talking about it, like Benji's going why and what not, starting with rogue nation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiwiBerry/pseuds/KiwiBerry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benji will admit it.  He's in love with Ethan Hunt.  But what he won't admit is that Lane changed everything and he isn't sure what that means just yet.  Ethan though, he just wants Benji to stick around. At least, for a little while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Talk About (When We Actually Talk About It)

Benjamin Dunn has a very boring job. Now is it an important job? Yes, but it’s oh so boring. He misses the IMF, running around with Jane and Brandt. He misses Ethan a lot, too.

When he wins tickets to the Venetian Opera it’s like a wish come true. Something to combat the autonomy that is lie detectors and computer monitors.

He’s on the next plane out within the hour, smiling like a loon. Flight attendants side eye him as they offer drinks and snacks, one even while instructing a tired looking mother attempting to settle herself and her baby into their seat.

“Anything to drink, sir?”

“Water would be fine, thanks.” Benji gives her another smile, and the woman in the seat beside him opens her mouth as if she’s been dying to since she sat down.

“Let me guess: wedding? Baby shower?”

Benji lets out a laugh, “Opera, actually.”

The woman laughs as well and doesn’t stop smiling about it until they take off.

 

When Benji realizes he didn’t win the tickets and won’t be seeing anything but the inside of a closet, he’s a bit upset. But Ethan’s talking in his ear and even if he can’t see him it’s the first time in a while Benji feels that there’s something to be smiling about (other than the opera, of course, but, well, that’s kind of part of it, isn’t it?)

 

Of course, everything goes to shit. Everything always goes to shit the first time around. Third times the charm, and all that. But, honestly, Benji’s just happy to be back out in the field (kind of) with Ethan. Hell, he’s just happy to know that Ethan’s not dead.

“So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been or is now not a good time for you to talk?” he asks because he has so many things to say and that’s the only thing keeping him from just tackling the man right then and there.

“Good to see you to,” is all Ethan mumbles with a smile and he’s leading them toward some boats, which is weird, but it’s Ethan which means it’s always weird.

Later, when Ethan tries to throw him back to the CIA, have him cut ties and run tail like nothing ever happened, like he was supposed to pretend that he wasn’t back where he belonged, back in the field, with Ethan, Benji is livid. He prides himself on holding back like he did, on not saying half the things he’d wanted to, even though Ethan’s face suggests he probably did anyway.

 

Five hours. Ethan’s been holding his breath for the last five hours and Benji’s beginning to grow bored. Not to say watching Ethan gasp, wide eyed and breathless, every three minutes isn’t amusing but after the first hour or so the weight of their situation begins to sink in and it’s all rather unsettling at that point.

“You do realize that in twelve hours, if you can’t do this, I’ll be dead.”

Ethan doesn’t move, submerged up to his shoulders and taking in long, heaving breaths.

“Look. I’m not trying to doubt you or whatever it is you do every mission but I feel that reminding you of the stakes that are at risk every time you come up before three minutes might help push you to-“

Ethan’s underwater again before he can finish, which has Benji stretching a bit on his lounge chair because three minutes isn’t that long of a wait.

Two minutes and forty three seconds later, Ethan breaks the surface and finds Benji toeing the edge of the pool and staring out into the desert, “Remember that time you asked for my help, even though you were on the top of Interpol’s list?” Of course Ethan remembers, he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget, “Really glad you did that, is all. Helped me decide to take the field exam, actually.”

Ethan smiles for a moment and Benji catches his eye, smiling back with a shrug.

“Why don’t we take a break?”

Ethan nods eagerly, lungs on fire, chest heaving, and Benji offers him a hand.

 

Ethan’s alive and Benji wishes he’d appreciated the fact more before he’d let the man drive a car and nearly kill them both. But then they’re both alive, or at least Benji assumes Ethan’s alive because he saw him just a moment ago when he came to but now he’s gone, the sound of tires squealing in the distance and Benji’s never hated a seatbelt so much in his life.

“Stop moving around,” Brandt scolds, trying his best to cut through the loose belt and not Benji.

“Sorry. Sorry. Where’d Ethan go?” he has to ask, even though he knows Ethan’s probably long gone, mind fixated on getting to Ilsa because if Ethan Hunt isn’t actively saving anyone then what is he really doing?

“After the woman. He’ll be back,” Luther assures as he helps Benji stand after crawling out of the car, “You should get that checked out.”

There’s a large bruise on his forehead from hitting the dashboard and Benji almost laughs at the absurdity of what just happened, but then remembers seeing Ethan unmoving beneath Ilsa and everything starts to swim a little. Brandt’s holding onto him, talking about finding someplace to wait for Ethan and Benji can’t find the heart to tell them that he doesn’t know if he can; if he can go one more minute of waiting for Ethan to come back to him, alive.

 

This is all wrong. Ethan won’t come. He can’t. Benji won’t let him. But then Ilsa’s looking at him like she knows Ethan will be here at any moment and he knows she’s right. Ethan always comes back, no matter what. It’s part of his charm, makes people root for him. And Benji wonders if this time it’ll be the death of him.

 

It isn’t and Benji decides he’s going to say something to Ethan after all of this is done. He just doesn’t know what.

 

It’s dark in the lot, the ambulance bright and blaring beneath the florescent lights, and Benji has to raise a hand to shield his face when he looks at Ethan.

They stand there a moment, Benji squinting and Ethan staring, as if they’re both working up the courage to say something, but they just don’t know what.

Benji beats him too it, “Crazy, right?”

Ethan smiles at that, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches out to place a hand on Benji’s shoulder, squeezing a moment, just like at the café, just like before he’d talked Lane, just like when Benji’d had a bomb strapped to his chest-

“Benji?”

Everything’s fuzzy a moment, but then Benji’s focusing on Ethan, whose holding him by the elbows, eyes searching his, grounding him.

“Sorry. Sorry. I just- It’s nothing, really,” Benji steps back, but Ethan’s still holding on, like it hasn’t even occurred to him to let go.

“Benji, look, I-“ he appears to be at loss for words, which would normally terrify Benji if he wasn’t so focused on the way Ethan’s holding onto him, as if he’s afraid of what will happen if he doesn’t.

“Ethan, I’m fine. Really. And I have you to thank for that.” Benji says it with a smile, even though that’s the last thing he wants to be doing right now, because he can see the tension in Ethan’s body, the way his gaze shifts to the ambulance behind them.

Someone laughs and Benji see’s Luther and Brandt talking with Ilsa, probably asking question after question, throwing around accusations that she’ll skillfully deflect. He’s grateful for the distraction, however, because it allows him to really focus in on where is; on where he’s not.

“You were really amazing today, Ethan. Bloody reckless, but amazing, nonetheless.” Benji teases, taking a step closer when he sees Ethan relax, feeling a hand rest firmly in the juncture between shoulder and neck, “See, this is why I always assume you’re indestructible! You do the most impossible things sometimes, but that’s probably why they call it the IMF. Which makes what I said sound foolish so just pretend I never said that, yeah?”

Ethan laughs because he can, because it feels good, because he can feel Benji’s pulse against his palm reminding him that they’re both alive. He runs his thumb over Benji’s skin absently, which earns him a shiver.

“Ethan…” Benji says in an exhale, and Ethan wants him to go on but he can’t because Brandt is calling to them and they’re both pulling back too quickly and then the moments gone.

So Ethan asks Benji if he’d like to join him for dinner instead, which gets him a laugh.

“It’s a little late for dinner, don’t you think?”

Ethan smiles because it’s not a no and claps Benji on the back with a hand that lingers just a second longer than it probably should.

“You know, I think Will was happier to see me back than you were,” Benji says conversationally, pulling a water bottle from the mini fridge, and drinking deeply for a moment, “I mean, he touched my face and everything. Even smiled. Don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely smile like that before. You?”

They’re back from dinner at some 24 hour diner, bellies full and bodies weary, ready for sleep. Ethan’s sitting at the end of one bed, flipping through channels. “I think there was that one time in Morroco,” he says.

Benji shakes his head, seating himself beside him and offering up the bottle, “No. No. That was more of a smug smile. Some kind of childish glee at seeing you put in your place, I would imagine.”

Ethan places the remote down on the bed, and takes the water graciously, “I was not ‘put in my place’.”

“Were too. You were hanging upside down from a thirty story balcony with your hands tied. I had to physically stop Brandt from placing a sign on you that said ‘IMF’s worst agent’ and taking a picture to send to the Secretary.”

Ethan considers this a moment, then changes the channel again, “Would you believe me if I said I was waiting for the opportune moment to strike?”

"Considering that the room was completely empty when we arrived, I’m going to have to say no.”

Ethan lets a smile break through, shrugging as he turns off the TV, “Maybe I’m just getting old.”

“If you’re getting old, I must be ancient then.”

They both laugh, reliving a few more moments of the past, before turning the lights off and heading for bed, the sound of the air conditioning humming the perfect white noise.

 

It’s something Benji’s been doing a lot recently on missions, turning over in the middle of the night and going into a slight panic until he can make out Ethan’s sleeping form in the dark. There’s a sense of comfort in knowing the man’s nearby, that he’s safe and alive and only an arm’s reach away.

Benji knows he’s selfish for it but he honestly doesn’t know what to do with himself when Ethan’s not around, feels like his missing an arm or a leg. Ethan’s been directing his life since the moment they met and everything else is just background noise at this point.

He wonders what would happen if Ethan quit, settled down with a wife, a family. He almost did once. He wonders what would happen if Ethan died, thinks about how he almost did that too. Because of Benji. Because he couldn’t pay bloody attention to the people behind him. Because he was too busy watching Ethan and Will and Luther and making sure Ilsa didn’t hurt anyone else.

Benji buries himself under his covers at the thought and wonders how Ethan would react if he said _he_ was quitting the force.

 

They’re having breakfast in the lobby, some stale toast and eggs that eat more like soup, when Ethan catches him staring.

“Benji.”

“Hm?” Benji hums, stuffing a spoonful of egg into his mouth.

Ethan breaks his toast in two and drags it through the jelly on his plate, silent, waiting. 

Benji swallows hard and sighs, “I don’t know I- I was just thinking that, well,” He waves a hand, as if searching for the right words, “It would seem that every time you almost die it’s because I pushed you to do something…ridiculous, reckless.”

Ethan sits a little straighter, dropping his toast onto his plate, “Benji-“

“No. No. Shut up, Ethan. I’m not asking you to argue, I’m just stating a fact.” He knows Ethan will try to combat him, argue like he always does, but this time he’s ready. Although the look Ethan’s giving him throws him a little off guard, “What?”

Ethan let’s out a breath he seems to have been holding for a while, something small yet too loud for Benji’s taste, and says, “To be honest, Benji, you make me do the things I need to do. Not a lot of people can do that.”

Instead of taking the compliment, Benji takes a sip of his coffee and says the first thing that comes to mind, “I’ve already killed you once. “

“Because I had to save you,” Ethan argues back instantly, and Benji can’t help but shrug, throat suddenly tight, mouth dry.

“I know.”

 

When Benji really thinks about it, he imagines Jane fell in love with Ethan in India during her honeypot mission, starting somewhere between the plane ride over and the moment he kissed her by the bar. Benji doesn’t blame her, the way she looked at Ethan on their way back to the states; like she was trying to figure him out before she unraveled for him.

And then there’s Will. He figures that happened after their meet up in Seattle. But it’s a bit different now because he knows the real story, the real reason Brandt was always so nervous around Ethan, and he knows that kind of thing can bond people for life. So when Brandt started giving Ethan these little looks, like he could finally trust that Ethan wouldn’t run at the mere sight of him, Benji knew what came next.

Spend an hour with Ethan Hunt and you’ll follow him anywhere.

 

Benji runs into Ilsa while Ethan’s haggling with a local vender, having spilled his bag of groceries onto the road, head of lettuce tumbling into the crowd.

“Here. Let me,” she says, picking up what she can and shoving it back into Benji’s arms. He smiles in return and Ethan joins them not much later.

“Is there something we can help you with?” He has his sunglasses on but Benji can see the tension in his face, the way he throws his shoulders back a bit defensively.

“On vacation, actually,” she smiles, stepping toward Benji and linking her arm with his, “I was actually hoping we could all have dinner. Is that alright?” The question’s directed toward Ethan but she looks at Benji when she speaks, eyes mischievous.

Benji finds it terrifying, “I don’t see why not?”

 

Dinner is a little frantic with Ilsa watching in amusement as Ethan and Benji dance around each other. Ethan’s busy frying something over the stove and Benji keeps pulling things from the fridge, showcasing exuberantly, before placing whatever it is next to the ever-growing pile on the counter.

“We can’t use every ingredient,” Ethan explains, trying not to make a face as Benji grabs a spoon and digs into the jar of icing he’d found, “And please don’t ruin your appetite with that.”

Benji shrugs, smiling cheekily around his spoon, which he pulls out of his mouth with a loud pop, “Icing is an every meal food, Ethan.”

Ilsa watches Ethan roll his eyes, and Benji grabs the seat beside her and begins to ask tedious questions: how she’s been, if she’s been anywhere exciting, done anything fun?

“I climbed a very tall mountain in France and had a lovely few weeks at its base. The locals were quite nice.” She thanks Ethan when he offers her a plate.

“What mountain?” he asks, handing Benji a glass, but she doesn’t answer. Just smiles as if she’s still there, remembering the people, the mountain, and asks Benji to pass the pepper.

 

After dinner they keep talking. About Lane (briefly, professionally), about M16 and the CIA, about Brandt and Luther and whatever else they can think of. Ilsa asks for a drink and Ethan supplies a bottle of wine from the kitchen, handing it off to Benji with a smile as he grabs three glasses.

They share horror stories of past missions, Benji bringing up their ghost mission a few years back, about how Ethan had to basically free climb a very, very tall building. “The gloves had given out, something I still regret not thoroughly testing, but, well, timing and all. So anyway he’s stuck in the server room, no gloves or rope to help him down, he’s stranded, helpless-“

“I wasn’t helpless,” Ethan breaks in, pausing mid sip to give Benji a look.

Benji waves a hand, turning back to Ilsa, “Anyway.” He goes back to his story, recounting in vivid detail how Ethan was jumping for his life while he’d been in the hallway changing numbers.

“I felt rather stupid after that. Running around like a fool while Ethan dangled from a building.” He swirls his glass a moment, silent. “I could have helped. I can’t do much but I feel like I could’ve done _something_."

Ilsa leans a little closer on the sofa they’re sharing and places a hand gently on his arm. She looks toward Ethan as if waiting for him to say something, but Ethan doesn’t know what to say, not really, because that’s a loaded statement and the wine’s making him comfortable and he knows if he speaks now he’ll say something he’ll regret so instead he looks at Benji with as much affection as he can and says “I’m sorry.”

Benji accepts it, moving on to a different story, leaning into Ilsa’s touch, and Ethan feels as though he’s missed something important.

 

When Ilsa leaves the next morning, dressed impeccably, as if she hadn’t gone to bed only four hours prior, she waits by the door as Benji stumbles sleepily out of the bedroom, yawning.

“It was lovely seeing you both,” she says, monotone as ever, waving away Benji’s request of staying for breakfast. Ethan moves their eggs off the stove, back to the door. He’s been odd ever since last night and it pains Ilsa to think she might know why, “Benji, would you mind coming here? I actually have something I forgot to give you.”

Benji looks between her and Ethan a moment, baffled and a little curious as to what Ilsa Faust could possibly give to him. If she was going to give anything to anyone it would most certainly be Ethan.

“Um. Sure. Alright.” Benji leaves the island, chair scraping against the linoleum, and he meets Ilsa in the foyer. He leaves his hands in his pockets, fingers brushing against his cellphone with built in Taser capability, but forgets about it the moment she leans forward and kisses him.

There’s no heat or want or really anything behind it. It’s just her lips pressed to the corner of his mouth, like when his relatives would kiss him at holidays, which has him smiling when she pulls back. He likes to think he and Ilsa are friends, after all. Family? At this point, Benji’s not really asking questions.

Now the door is open, the ends of her jacket splaying in the wind, and Ilsa’s looking past Benji at Ethan, still at the island, fork stabbing into his eggs absently as he reads the paper.

She’s gone by the time Benji follows her gaze and back and he locks the door behind her, sauntering dazedly back to the island, “Did you see what she just-?”

“You should get dressed. We’re meeting Brandt in an hour.”

Benji stares at Ethan a moment, a strange crease to his brow and a tension in his shoulders, but doesn’t mention it, deciding to sit down to eat his own breakfast before attempting to unravel the hurricane that is Ethan Hunt, “Fine. But I’m using all the hot water.”

Benji catches him smiling at that and can’t help but feel a bit better for it.

 

Benji always guessed he’d fallen in love with Ethan the moment the man asked for his help, came bounding over with big, scary Luther in tow, and began drilling him with questions. It was like the world had shifted a few degrees, not enough to disturb but enough to set Benji’s shoulders a little straighter and lift his chin a little higher.

After Shanghai, he thought he’d never see Ethan again and a part of him locked up at that, shriveled up into its own corner to die slowly.

Russia’d had him singing like a loon the entire ride over, Jane eyeing him like he was about to drive them off the nearest bridge.

“You alright?” she’d asked, turning down the radio, the last notes of some song floating through the van.

“Who? Me? Of course. Just peachy. Little nervous is all.” It hadn’t been a lie necessarily. He had been nervous, just not for the reasons he should have been.

Jane had sighed, reclining back in her seat just a bit more, gps in hand, “Just focus on the mission.”

Benji hadn’t been able to stop himself from turning rather excitedly onto a freeway, a few cars honking in reply “Like a laser.”

 

It’s after yet another boring meeting with Brandt and the Secretary that they’re watching a movie, something about mistaken identities and love and explosions, when Benji catches Ethan looking at him and not the movie.

He’s close, the two of them pushed together rather snuggly on the sofa. The room is dark, Ethan silhouetted by the light of the TV. They’re shoulder to hip, pressed comfortably together, and Benji hasn’t really noticed until now that Ethan’s hand is dangerously close to his thigh.

“Ethan?” He asks, not really sure what about, but he sees something shift inside Ethan’s head, sees that same look he gets when he’s accepted that he’s about to do something really, really stupid.

Ethan moves a little closer, movie forgotten, and Benji feels that hand slide onto his thigh, and he finds himself moving a little closer too. Ethan doesn’t hesitate before kissing Benji, gentle and slow, but he’s pushing for more and Benji is all too happy to oblige. He brings his hands to Ethan’s face, a part of him terrified that this is all a dream and in the next second Ethan will just be gone. But instead, he grabs Benji’s waist and pulls him closer, angling them so their bodies slide together.

Benji’s hands are in Ethan’s hair when they pull apart, and they’re both just staring, as if afraid to break the silence, render the moment gone.

“Is this? I mean, it would seem like it would be but…” Benji still has one hand playing with Ethan’s hair and receives a slight shiver when he tugs at it distractedly, “Please tell me that you meant to do that.”

Ethan’s face breaks out into a wide grin, chuckling softly as he pushes Benji back and starts kissing him again. And Benji’s okay with that. He’s more than okay with that, he’s ecstatic, and as Ethan peppers his throat with kisses he wonders if Ilsa would prefer white wine or red.

 

Benji hates to admit it, but they don't talk about the kiss the next day, or how he’d followed Ethan into bed afterwards. They don’t talk about how they’d curled close together and Ethan had held onto him as if afraid he’d disappear. They don’t talk about how Benji had slept the entire night without a single nightmare about Lane or his henchman, the first since London.

So Benji’s on a plane to London the following day, muttering something about family and whatnot, and Ethan lets him go without much protest, a message from the Secretary not far behind.

 

Ironically, they meet again at an airport, Ethan smiling with a wave as Benji keeps his eyes trained on the carpet. They skirt around each other for most of the mission, which is all fine and good until Ethan starts making little frustrated noises half the time that Benji’s in the same room as him. So it’s no surprise, really, when Brandt takes off with Jane to avoid whatever’s going on between the two of them.

Which leaves the both of them in the hotel room for the evening. Alone.

Benji’s seated near the door, laptop open and fan humming quietly, heels kicking distractedly at the legs of his chair, when Ethan calls his name.

“What’s up?” He’s working on debugging some code, eyes going a bit crossed from staring at his screen, so he doesn’t blame Ethan for sighing when he doesn’t seem to be paying him much attention.

“I know we didn’t- I just want to clear up any misunderstandings-“ Ethan starts rambling, and that has Benji closing his laptop a bit too roughly.

“Is this about kissing me?” he asks outright, too nervous to do anything else, and the way Ethan falls back into an armchair has him assuming it is, “Look. I understand. There was a lot going on at the time, it was right after the whole Lane debacle and sometimes you do things you don’t mean to, you kiss people you don’t actually _like_ -“

Ethan’s leaning forward now, as if what Benji’s just said doesn’t make sense, “Benji, I don’t not like you. I kissed you.”

Benji’s skeptical, always has been, and for once he says something about it, “I don’t know. You kiss a lot of people, Ethan. Before and after Julia. And I’m assuming a whole lot in between as well.” He feels a bit bad at that one but he can’t help but be dismissive, it’s his only real self-defense.

Ethan’s standing again and it’s almost intimidating, the way he walks across the room and sits beside Benji, turning a chair towards him, “Why do you keep doing that?” There’s honest curiosity in his voice, betraying the frustration in his eyes.

“Doing what?” Benji’s playing with his laptops usb port, feeling the sharp edges dig into his skin. He should probably replace it soon.

“Bringing her up. Deflecting my questions.”

“Is she something you don’t want me to bring up?” Benji ignores the second part because he doesn’t want to answer that, and it makes Ethan falter a moment, running a hand through his hair, which makes Benji feel he might have a little bit more leverage in this conversation than he thinks, “Look I know that she died that night in Croatia but you can’t-“

Ethan raises a hand, halting Benji’s words, “How do you know about that?”

“Brandt told me. Apparently he trusts me enough to actually tell me things. Important things, Ethan.” There’s empty anger in his words but he needs Ethan to feel a little guilty about this thing between them, whatever it is.

“No one was supposed to know.” He says, eyes closing as if he’s bracing himself, “She’s alive, Benji.”

The words hit Benji hard, and he doesn’t really know why. He feels like he’s blindsided, like he’s been shot and is only now feeling the edges of pain creeping inward. He feels like when he’d first entered the field and no one had told him how hard it would be, how everyone would look at you with contempt until you could prove yourself, how everyone you know could be dead in an instant, “But-“

“She was in danger,” Ethan says, shoulders hunched forward, not looking Benji in the eye, “Constantly. We both decided it’d be better for her if we’d…stay apart. So-“

“So you killed an entire Serbian hit squad to make it look like a revenge hit,” Benji has an incredulous look on his face as he begins to fill in the gaps, filter Brandt’s story with Ethan’s, “But why were you-?”

“In prison?” Ethan gives him a smile and it makes Benji want to hit him, “Because the hit couldn’t be sanctioned by IMF, not outright, so the Secretary had me play the part and get set up in a prison where I’d work undercover intel-“

“Until he decided to break you out.” Benji’s staring at Ethan now, and feels something like actual anger well up inside him, “And you didn’t tell anyone else about this?”

Ethan makes a guilty face, gaze drifting away, “Brandt knows.”

Benji stands abruptly, hands splayed wildly, startling Ethan, “Will knows? You told him? But not me? God, Ethan, I know we’re not the best of friends but-” He’s pacing now, a bit baffled as to how they got here, as if he’s forgotten something important, but he’s too angry to care, too hurt by Ethan’s complete lack of trust, “For fuck’s sake, I helped you find Julia that day in Shanghai, do you remember that? So what part of that told you that you couldn’t trust me?”

Ethan’s eyes are on Benji, mouth open as if he’s waiting to speak his turn, as if he’s seen this coming, as if he’s already calculated the exact moment to stand, to counter, “Benji-“

So Benji throws that out the window and just leaves, making sure to slam the door behind him.

 

Ethan finds Benji in the back of their van, pressed into a corner where he’s messing with some lose wires and getting small sparks in return. He curses a moment, pulling back a hand in pain, before spotting Ethan climbing in as well, doors falling closed behind him.

He sits down, letting the metal shelves dig into his shoulders, and throws Benji an amused look, “The van?”

“I forgot the keys,” Benji snaps back, eyes glued to the wires, one finger coming to his mouth as he endures another spark.

Ethan watches him fiddle another moment, before sighing, “Benji-“

“Shut up, Ethan.” He drops the wire, letting his head fall back against the passenger seat, “Shit. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s alright,” Ethan shrugs and Benji sits up straight, eyes narrowed.

“No, It’s not alright,” he says, and everything else just kind of comes tumbling out, “I had no right to be angry with you, to yell at you like that. I mean, I get it. You have a life outside of the IMF and the team, and I need to respect that. I know there will be things you can’t tell me and that’s fine. Comes with the job. It’s just, and you’re going to think me mad for saying this but, how could you walk away from her? I mean, she was fantastic. Lovely and really brilliant, from what I’d heard. And you let her go, Ethan, just like that and I don’t like to think that means you’d choose to be alone rather than hurt anyone else but it seems like you would. And now I can’t help but consider that you’ll do the same to me.”

Benji shrugs, as if what he’s just said is as confusing to him as it is Ethan but Ethan’s more baffled and frustrated (and honestly a bit touched) than anything else so he says the thing that’s been running through his mind since he found himself sprinting through a parking garage, breathless and lost as his phone rang in his pocket.

“Benji, I’m not going to leave you.”

But Benji’s not really listening anymore, too many thoughts running through his head. So he’s looks at the floor, his hands, and breathes, "You know, when I saw you lying there with Ilsa, you looked dead. I thought you were dead. You remember Agent Hanaway? That’s what he’d looked like too, except with Jane hovering over him instead. That’s why I ran. I wasn’t running because I thought you were dead, Ethan. I’d have been running far, far away if you were. I was running because I thought I’d miss those last few seconds to tell you something I should have a long time ago.”

“And what’s that?” Ethan asks because he needs to know, feels like it’s something he’s been waiting for all along; like he’s back in Morocco holding his breath in the hopes of saving his friend.

Benji takes a deep breath, then exhales, “That I love you. That I admire you, respect you, trust you. God, Ethan, I’d follow you anywhere if you asked me. I’d give up anything, everything, for you without any hesitation. And that’s terrifying to think about but sometimes it’s all I think about. And the idea that there’s even the slightest chance you might not feel the same, might not feel like you can trust me, it, well, it hurts, Ethan. It really fucking hurts.”

There’s silence in the van, the passing headlights of a car casting shadows over them for a few moments. Ethan shifts where he’s sitting, crossing the van to press up against Benji’s side, shoulder to shoulder, just like when they’d kissed for the first time. He doesn’t look at Benji when he speaks but Benji doesn’t mind.

“When I first met you,” Ethan says, “I didn’t know what to think. I was still an agent, living one day at a time, loving my job. You were just another IT waiting on standby, but you caught my attention. The way you talked with your entire being, as if you were making damn sure everyone heard you speak. I respected that, felt like there was this whole other world inside your head that was numbers and wires and things I couldn’t even pretend to understand. So when I was in Shanghai, I didn’t know who would pick up but I’m glad it was you. I trusted you, Benji. You were just so honest, like you didn’t know how else to be.

When we met again in Russia, after everything that had happened, there was this feeling I couldn’t shake, like I wasn’t surprised that you ended up out in the field with me. Every day we spent together helped assert that, had me wondering why you hadn’t been by my side since the beginning. Sometimes I forget we haven’t known each other for years, decades even, because it feels that way sometimes. That’s why I wanted you in Vienna. That’s why I sent you those tickets. Yes, I needed your help, but more than that I wanted you with me, needed you with me. Six months was just too long and I know you’re a good liar, but still.”

“What?” Benji says, as if voicing a thought rather than asking a real question, but Ethan catches it anyway and smiles.

“Brandt.”

And that’s enough of an explanation for now, because Benji’s more concerned about whether or not Ethan’s going to continue where he left off. He does, leaning a little into Benji as if everything they’ve been doing has finally caught up with him.

“When you disappeared from the terminal I panicked, I couldn’t think straight. Brandt tried to calm me down, focus me, but I couldn’t. Not with the video of you replaying over and over in my head. Honestly, it felt like Julia all over again. That’s when I realized, well, how much you meant to me. How far I’d go to get you back. I think Brandt and Luther were a little overwhelmed by it all for a while, but we did it and now you’re here, but I’m afraid I’m losing you all over again,” Ethan turns, reaching out one hand slowly, as if to allow Benji time to pull back, but he doesn’t, “I can’t lose you, Benji. Not again. Not ever. I should have said it sooner, but I love you, Benji. And I’m never, ever going to leave you.”

Ethan’s a little surprised when Benji lunges forward, pushing him backwards and kissing him fully on the mouth, heated and apologetic and so many things Ethan can’t even begin to describe. So he lets out an appreciative noise instead when Benji pauses to slow the kiss, to really let Ethan know how much he loves him because he doesn’t think he can put those thoughts into words right now. So Benji keeps kissing him, touching every part of him he can, like he can’t get enough, and Ethan lets him. Because he knows what this means, what he hopes comes after.

“Do you think it’s bad luck to shag in the van the night before a mission?” Benji asks absently, leaving light kisses along Ethan’s jawline, which makes him laugh rather loud.

“Can’t say Brandt will appreciate it.”

“Fuck Brandt. Wait, no, don’t. You know what I mean.”

And Ethan does, which is why he pulls Benji up to kiss him again, just so he gets the message.

 

They’re back in the hotel room and Benji’s head is propped in Ethan’s lap as they watch TV on the bed, making comments now and then about physics and realism in action movies, when Brandt walks in.

“Hey guys, me and Jane are heading to bed, did you get the-?” He pauses, looking between the two of them a moment: Ethan playing with Benji’s hair absently, Benji with his face half tucked into Ethan’s thigh. He closes his eyes a moment, as if regaining his compusure, “You know what, forget I said anything. If you need me…yeah.”

When he’s gone, Benji starts laughing, “I think we broke him.”

Ethan shrugs, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple, “He’ll recover.”

Benji falls asleep before the movie ends, drooling a bit onto Ethan’s pants, but he maneuvers them both under the covers effortlessly, receiving little protest from Benji as he wraps an arm around him and pulls him close.

“Good night, Benji,” Ethan says, quietly, taking another long second to just look at Benji, appreciate the fact that he’s there and most likely staying.

“Good,” is all Benji mutters back, face half buried in his pillow, and Ethan can’t help but think how right he is.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope everything follows canon. I haven't really watched any of the original mission impossible and I watched like the last half of MI 3 just because of Benji so I'm definitely biased about some things. Anyway, this story has been a three monthish work in progress so let's hope it was worth the wait! Comments, questions, concerns? Find me over at daydreamjamesdean.tumblr.com It's an incognito tumblr, hence the name. 
> 
> Also, my inclusion of the Brandt thing was partly humor partly Brandt/Benji/Ethan is my OT3 for life and I was wondering if I wanted to extend this into something like that. I might do a whole nother story since I have some stuff written but I left this part in because it seemed fitting. :)


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